Halfway Gone
by Toadflame
Summary: 'You were always hard to hold; so letting go ain't easy.' They thought Tony wouldn't leave; was solid in his job. But he did, and letting him go wasn't easy. But being back changes things, right? Depends. No pairings. Can be called AU.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm a huge fan of NCIS, and this is my first story for this fandom. This was written as a response to Easier than eating two pies' challenge:**

_**Tony leaves NCIS Washington DC for another place, without much warning. He could be going on a mission, getting a new job, taking a promotion, or anything else you can think up. Why did he leave and where did he go? What are everyone's reactions? A while later (from a few months to several years), he returns. What has changed? How does everyone react? Tell us how he makes amends and what the future holds for him.**_

**I thought it a great prompt and figured 'What the hey? Why not try it?' I have no idea where this is going or anything, but I'm going to juggle this between three other WIP that I have while planning yet another story that I promise WILL NOT be posted until all of my WIP are complete.**

**With an irrelevant author's note done, enjoy!**

* * *

_**January 26, 2010: Washington D.C.**_

_**1500 Hours**_

_Agent Anthony DiNozzo, Jr., aka Tony, did not know what Director Vance had in mind when he called him into his office, but he didn't sound happy when he'd called. It was with some hesitation that he knocked on the door, even though he'd been ushered over by the secretary._

"_Come in!" came the barked order. Tony pushed the door open and poked his head in._

"_Sir? You called me up?" he asked._

"_Ah, yes. Sit down, Agent DiNozzo," Vance said, slightly distracted as he searched for something on his desk._

_Tony sat as ordered, not quite sure what to expect from this man. Vance had not been the director of NCIS long, but seemed competent at his job, if not a little over-kill for what the department needed._

"_Here we are," Vance said, snapping Tony out of his reverie. He slid a case file over the desk. "Now, DiNozzo, follow along, as I can only go through this once._

"_Two weeks ago, I received a private call from an agency overseas. They asked specifically for information regarding a case we were not assigned. When I told them so, they realized their error and did not call again. Until yesterday._

"_They came to the office and handed me one case file, stating that I was to give it to one agent, and only one. They did not want a large scandal to happen, as it would should a large team be assigned."_

_Tony, who had been flipping through the pages, stopped and leaned forward. "Excuse me, but…Director? What does this have to do with me?"_

_Vance rolled his eyes. "DiNozzo. Surely you are a better agent than to ask those kinds of questions, right? What the hell do you think this has to do with you?"_

"_Sorry, sir. I, ah, do understand what this means. I meant…why me?"_

"_Look, DiNozzo, I may not like you, but from the way Gibbs speaks of you, you have to be good. I've learned a bit about him: he's had a lot of agents over the years, and there are only a few he speaks so highly of. And this case requires they be active, which leaves you._

"_As I was saying, they have found evidence of a smuggling ring between Somalia and the United States. We have yet to isolate the specific port or ports here, but we know where they are in Somalia. INTERPOL is already involved, so they will be there to help. They've already lost several agents, which is why they asked for the best."_

"_Yes, sir. And, please, explain how I'd be infiltrating this ring?"_

"_You are going to be sent out with the cargo they tend to take-mainly, high-powered weaponry. We need to break this, which is why we are using the real weapons for this. You'll need to do this several times, and probably even make it look like you've been stealing this, thus showing you are not loyal to this government."_

"_Sir, I've already been arrested and accused of murder once; I don't think I'll get away with it this time."_

"_Don't worry, it's all been taken care of by INTERPOL. I assume this means you will accept then?"_

_Tony sat for a moment, debating the points. Would it be worth leaving NCIS to break this? Vance seemed to sense his hesitation._

"_I can't believe I'm saying this, but DiNozzo? I will make sure that your spot on NCIS is still available, but if, and only if, you break this ring. They are using our weapons against us. INTERPOL is desperate for any kind of help, and NCIS is at the top of the list. You'd ship out tomorrow, 0600."_

_Tony almost didn't hesitate, and his voice almost didn't waver as he said, "I'll do it."_

* * *

**January 27, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**0730 Hours**

Ziva drummed her fingers on her desk. McGee's eyes darted side-to-side as he absent-mindedly tapped at his computer. Gibbs sat leaned back in his chair as he scanned the entire room. Tony's desk remained empty, but everything-including the Mickey Mouse stapler-remained in its place.

Down in autopsy, Ducky and Palmer both sat in silence, both sensing the tension in the bullpen even though they were nowhere near there.

Abby was in her office in the forensics lab, her music turned down lower in case anybody called. Her Caf-Pow! went untouched next to her.

Ziva finally couldn't take it. "Where is Tony?" the Israeli asked the room at large, breaking the silence that had befallen the team.

Gibbs didn't look at her as he said, "Not here, Ziva."

"Well, I know that! I meant where is he in relation to his location."

"I think we got that, Ziva," McGee said tentatively. "But we don't know."

"I do not understand it," Ziva murmured. "He could not have-" She searched for the right term. "Blown the coop."

"Flown the coop," McGee corrected absently.

"Whatever! Why has he not called?"

"That's what I'm going to find out," Gibbs said, standing suddenly. He marched to the stairs, walking briskly toward Director Vance's office.

He walked in, brushing past the secretary, who quickly and quietly alerted Vance that someone was there. The door was pushed open by an irate Gibbs, even though the anger was not directly shown.

"Agent Gibbs," Vance said, standing. "What can I do for you?"

Brusquely, Gibbs answered, "You can tell me where the hell my agent is, Vance. Finally gotten rid of him for your own gain?"

"I'd assume I have no idea what you are talking about, seeing as you haven't mentioned a name, Agent Gibbs," Vance said airily, sitting down and gesturing for the former Marine to do the same.

Gibbs didn't take the hint. "DiNozzo, Vance. Six-foot-two, my senior field agent, ring any bells?"

"Now that you mention it, yes. Is he the annoying one, talks all the time about movies?"

"Yeah. Now where is he?"

"Top secret, Gibbs. Don't like it, take it up with my superiors. Contrary to popular belief, I don't hold all the damn cards in this game, Agent. Now, if you have a _real_ problem, feel free to stop by and see me. Until then, please do not waste any more of my time."

Gibbs growled, leaning over the desk. "This is a real problem! One of my agents is missing, and you aren't doing a damn thing to find him!"

Vance smiled like the cat who had the canary. "Unfortunately for you, Gibbs, you can't report anybody missing for at least twenty-four hours. Which isn't until tomorrow. I'd assume you'll hear from him later. He has his habits, you know. Now please, get out."

Gibbs knew full-well that Vance was referring to Tony's playboy nature, and narrowed his eyes. "Fine," he spat, stalking out the door.

Vance shook his head. "I should've known this would be a problem," he sighed.

* * *

_**FIVE MONTHS LATER: June 15, 2010: Washington, D.C.**_

_**1300 Hours**_

Tony DiNozzo stood outside the familiar building, his face a little more angular, a little more facial hair, a little less weight, but all in one piece.

"Welcome home," he whispered, shouldering the bag that had slid from his arm and walking inside. He had a deal to collect from a man upstairs.

* * *

**And stopping it there. This should be a short story (meaning it will be finished well before the deadline), with flashbacks occurring throughout the next chapter(s) about his time in Somalia busting pirates! Hope you liked this first chapter, especially Easier than eating two pies.**

**I do not know the first thing about how one reports a missing person in DC, I'm going with how it goes for here in Wisconsin and a few other places. I do know it is between 24 and 48 hours.**

**Also: no idea what to call this story, so if you have a better song title that I could call it, this would be greatly appreciated. Please try to make it something that is a kind of sad song, but a bit cheerful.**

**Cheers!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow. I am shocked and so excited that my story got so much attention! I have been typing this chapter and I continue to get hits like nobody's business! Thank you all so much! I was checking the traffic, and holy cow-there are like, 26 countries on there that I got hits from! I'm ecstatic. There are absolutely no words to say how awesome you guys and girls are!**

**Hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as the last! Flashbacks are clearly marked with a double line, as well as date, time, and location, and will be in **_**italics**_**.**

* * *

**June 15, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**1310 Hours**

Tony stood outside the garage elevator, tapping a foot impatiently. _Gibbs must have it stopped_, he decided after another moment. Sighing, he knew the drill-stairs. Even after five months, Gibbs' policy hadn't changed: take an agent in the elevator, press the emergency stop, and chew them out for screwing up or something. Tony had been on the receiving end of this many times.

He didn't see that the elevator opened the moment the stair door had closed, or that Gibbs, Ziva, McGee, and a rookie agent stepped out. If he had, he'd have seen that they were laughing at something someone had said.

But, as he didn't, he stepped lively up the stairs, the route familiar even as it was unfamiliar; he'd gotten used to finding the secret stairs within the smuggling headquarters in Somalia…

* * *

_**January 28, 2010: Bandarbeyla, Somalia**_

_**0220 Hours**_

_Tony stepped off INTERPOL's plane into the port city of Bandarbeyla, Somalia; reportedly where the smugglers received their shipments._

"_Hey!" came the hissed cry from above. "Make it look like you're actually here against your will!"_

"_Fine, fine," Tony muttered, rolling his eyes but complying. He slowly raised his hands even with his shoulders, taking measured steps down the gangplank with an undercover INTERPOL agent behind him._

_A Somali man stepped near, obviously recognizing the man, if not the plane. "You have what we need?" he asked, speaking near-perfect English._

"_Yeah," the agent behind Tony said. He poked the unloaded gun into Tony's back. "I got us a new smuggler, too."_

"_Looks American," the Somali pirate said, aimlessly gesturing. "Why should we trust him?"_

"_I found him taking some of the weapons I was gonna bring you. He ain't loyal to that government, if any."_

_Wisely, Tony kept silent for once, not trying to make a joke or reference the movie he was thinking of._

"_I say we just shoot him."_

"_Ghedi, that's what you said about the last one. You don't let people help; do you want a lot of weapons or just what I can bring you? We need him."_

"_Fine, fine. I shall-what is it? Humor you. But the first time he tries anything…funny, he will be killed. As will you, Weston."_

_Ghedi brushed past Tony and Weston into the plane to inspect the cargo. Weston holstered the empty gun, quietly chuckling to relieve the tension he felt._

"_Got you in," he said, grinning at Tony._

_Tony smiled humorlessly. "Yeah, you did."_

* * *

**June 15, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**1320 Hours**

The ten-minute walk up to the fourth floor of the NCIS building didn't phase Tony; after avoiding the Coast Guard and Somali police for five months, this seemed to be a cakewalk to Tony, and he arrived in time to catch the Director as he was just leaving.

"Vance!" he called, striding up to the man in question. Vance didn't show it, but he was suitably impressed and did not seem startled in the least.

"DiNozzo! I was wondering if you'd make it back," the dark-skinned man smirked, ushering Tony into the room he'd only just vacated.

"Ah well, you know me, Director. A little thing like Somali pirates isn't enough to keep me down," Tony said easily, sitting in the proffered chair. Vance seated himself behind the desk, facing Tony.

"I assume all paperwork they needed you to do is cleared?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. And everything will be announced on the news tonight, something I find to be a bit…" Tony trailed off, but the meaning was clear.

Vance cleared his throat. "I cannot be held responsible for what INTERPOL does or doesn't decide to do."

"I'm not accusing you, Director."

"DiNozzo, don't mess with me. You are here to collect on our deal, aren't you?"

Tony smiled, glancing down then back up. "Yeah."

"Well, while you were absent, I put in a temporary agent, and Agent McGee has filled in your spot. But I think that we can safely place McGee back to where he was, but without putting him to Probie status. The extra agent we'll have to reassign, but he is doing fine as well."

"Sir, you don't have to rearrange the team if they are doing well…"

Vance leaned back, whistling. "A humble DiNozzo? Maybe this was the thing for you."

"Well, even though it didn't go quite as planned, I mellowed out a bit to keep my cover."

* * *

_**January 30, 2010: Somewhere around the southern tip of Africa on a ship**_

_**1600 Hours**_

_The ship had left for the United States; the exact city was being kept from Tony. Ghedi and Weston were in the captain's quarters, discussing their plan, and Tony was left to do whatever until they reached their destination._

_He felt the fuzz on his cheeks and chin; a shave was in order to keep it short. But not right now. He'd need something to keep his face from being recognized._

_The wind whipped against his face, leaving it burnished with a fine tan and slight windburn. But Tony wasn't in any hurry to get below deck. They were still in international waters. He'd be safe for now._

"_Harrington!"_

_Tony turned when he heard Ghedi call the false name he'd given: Ivan Harrington. They'd taken it, not showing if they suspected he wasn't telling the truth._

"_Yeah?" he asked._

_Ghedi glared against the sun at him. "What the hell are you doing up here? I told everyone to stay below the damn deck!"_

"_See, that's the thing: I don't take orders well. I needed some sun and air, so here I am."_

_Ghedi turned as if to go, but was back in Tony's face brandishing a knife. "If you so much as disobey a direct order again, you will not live to see the States again, and neither will you pal Weston. I told him this was a bad idea, but this won't be pretty, and I'll be left with no contacts to get me what I need. Do you understand me?"_

_Tony gulped, even though having been on the receiving end of a threat more than once. "I understand," he said, not wanting to blow cover. He wanted to live to see Ziva, Abby, McGee, Ducky, even Gibbs again._

"_Good," Ghedi said, stowing his knife. "Below. Now."_

* * *

**June 15, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**1320 Hours**

Vance listened to the recount in silence. "Well, I wouldn't let your teammates see this new side of you. They'll think something's more wrong than it already is."

Tony thought about this, then asked, "Sir, how did you keep it a secret?"

"It wasn't easy. Now, are we going to chat all day, or will you accept your position back?"

"Position," Tony said eagerly.

* * *

**June 16, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**0700 Hours**

Tony sat in his old desk, oddly preserved for him being gone for five months. He jiggled his foot nervously. It had been a long time; how would everyone react to him being back?

The director came in, noticing he was there and nodding, but not stopping as he went up the main stairs to his office.

Shortly thereafter, Ziva and McGee came in. Neither glanced at Tony's desk, knowing he wouldn't be there. They went about their business, settling their things and beginning their work. Tony couldn't help but notice that McGee had some extra files on his desk, obviously the work he needed to complete from when he'd been the Senior Field Agent in Tony's absence.

"You know," he said suddenly, causing them to look at him in pure, unhidden shock, "I could take those files back, McGee."

"Tony?"

* * *

**Once again, I cannot say how important it is to me that I got such a huge response from everybody! Thank you all again, those who reviewed, and I hope this chapter didn't disappoint!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm still astounded that this is still getting such a big response! You guys are great! I've checked my inbox throughout the day and continued to get some notification of this story.**

**This will probably be rather OC, so if there's something I could do to keep Gibbs' reactions the way they are but more in character, please let me know! I've also been flying by the seat of my pants with Vance. I have no idea what he'd actually do; I never see much of him in the episodes.**

**I've done my research; all Somali ports and cities mentioned ARE real cities in the country.**

* * *

**June 16, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**0700 Hours**

Tony rolled his eyes. "Who'd you expect, Zee-va?" he asked, drawing out her name.

"Not you," she snipped back. "You have been gone for five months!"

"Tony, where'd you go?" McGee asked, his eyes glancing over every part of Tony as if to reassure himself that he was truly there.

Tony clamped his mouth shut. INTERPOL hadn't said he _couldn't_ say anything, but…

"Did you see the news last night?" he asked instead.

"Of course," Ziva said, confused. "What does this have to do with you?"

"Well, I was-"

"DiNozzo!"

"Boss!" Tony said, turning to face Gibbs as he walked in with coffee.

"What are you doing, DiNozzo?"

"Uh, talking, Boss."

_Smack_

"Actually, I was trying to get McGee to give me some of those forms to fill out, Boss."

"Good."

Gibbs disappeared into the Director's office, and Tony looked over at McGee. "Hand 'em over," he said.

* * *

"Who the hell do you think you're kidding, Vance?" Gibbs shouted as he stormed into the office. "We'd just gotten used to _not_ having DiNozzo here! What is he doing back?"

Vance looked up. "Funny one, Gibbs," he snapped, standing to face the angry ex-Marine. "The day you couldn't find him, you stormed in here to find him because you wanted him back. Now you don't?"

"I…" Gibbs found himself at a loss for words. He had wanted Tony back, but after a couple months, he deemed it lost and asked for a new agent. But Tony was back…

Vance sensed his hesitation. "If you don't want him, he's ready for a promotion anyway," Vance said carelessly, not bothering to tell Gibbs why. "I could give him his own team, or transfer him. Whichever you prefer. But I need an answer now, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs grit his teeth. "Leave him here for now. I want to see how this goes first," he muttered, stalking out of the room. He turned. "Don't take him away again, Vance. Putting him on deployment once, that was understandable. This is unforgivable."

"Did you watch the news last night? That would probably help you figure out where he went." Vance turned, obviously done with the agent.

Gibbs went back downstairs, wondering what the hell Vance had done that he knew more about Tony's location the past few months than anybody else.

* * *

"So, you were out chasing Somali pirates?" McGee asked doubtfully.

Tony looked up from the requisition forms he was filling out. "Basically," he said.

* * *

_**February 2, 2010: Mogadishu, Somalia**_

_**0110 Hours**_

_The clanging bell woke Tony, rolling him off the hammock and onto the floor in shock. He heard the people he was currently residing with, all pirates of the same smuggling ring, racing past the storage closet they called a room. He stood slowly, reaching for the door handle._

"_What's going on?" he asked one racing by._

"_INTERPOL," he said, using one of the few English words he knew._

_Tony forced his way against the throng to find Weston standing in the ops room. "What do we do?" he asked._

_Weston looked at him. "Wait," he said simply._

_Finally, a couple of INTERPOL's agents stepped into the ops room. "Mark, Tony," the leader barked. "What have you got?"_

_Weston-no, Mark-handed over a small packet. "We have a main location where they distribute, Sir. We also have a few more locations to add to our list of suppliers."_

"_I've also discovered that they have American traitors working as 'hostages,' Sir. They come out on the ships and are taken hostage, but are paid with funds they receive from selling the weapons," Tony spoke up_

_The squad leader nodded curtly. "Got it. Good work, you two. But be on guard-you told us where they were tonight, so they're going to move and now know that they have at least one traitor in their midst."_

_Tony and Mark watched as they moved out, taking several caught smugglers with them. One saw them, and began to yell in Arabic. "__خونة__! __في غرفة التقاط__! __شخص الحصول عليها__! __ومن ذلك هارينغتون وستون__!" _***Traitors! In the ops room! Someone get them! It's that Harrington and Weston!***

"_Quiet," the agent behind him snapped, pushing him forward._

_Now Mark and Tony could only hope that no one other than those already caught had heard him._

* * *

**June 16, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**0710 Hours**

Ziva listened to the recount, then shook her head. "I would not have wanted to be the agent there," she shivered.

"It wasn't so bad. I had Mark," Tony proffered, patting her back.

"Still, it had to be horrible. It sounds like Mossad in a way."

"DiNozzo!"

"Boss!"

"Get yourself down to Ducky, now. I want you to have a full physical since you missed yours."

"Gotcha, boss."

Tony walked to the elevator, followed closely by Ziva. The doors closed, leaving them together.

"What?" Tony asked, uncomfortable being in confined quarters with the Israeli.

"I felt you needed company," Ziva said matter-of-factly.

"Ziva, it's a physical."

"Yes, I know."

Tony wasn't sure how to respond, so he didn't. The rest of the ride-all four floors of it-passed in relative silence.

"Duck!" Tony called in greeting as he pushed the doors to Autopsy open.

"Anthony, is that you?" Ducky asked, coming to where the two agents could see him.

"In the flesh," Tony answered, grinning. "Boss wants a full physical done."

"Of course. Ziva, may I ask you to wait here for this?"

"I will wait," Ziva said, setting herself into the desk chair.

Ducky conducted the physical in relative quickness, chattering all the way-"Did I ever tell you about…"-finally ending with, "I need to draw some blood. Sit still, would you?"

Tony gripped the edge of the table in order to keep from wincing as the needle inserted into the swabbed area within his left elbow. When Ducky had four vials, he stopped and handed them to Tony. "Take these to Abby, my dear boy. It is good to have you here. In fact, do come down at some point in order to tell me about your experience being gone. I sense it to be something of great excitement."

Tony smiled as the elevator doors closed.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he said, pressing the emergency stop.

"Do what?"

"Follow me like a puppy. As far as I know, I'm not going anywhere."

"I want to know that you are all right."

"I'm fine, Ziva. Ducky's basically said so; Abby just needs to confirm it," he said, reengaging the elevator.

The doors to Abby's lab opened to greet an abnormal silence. The Goth sat in her office, cordoned off by the glass and sliding door, and even in there, there didn't seem to be music.

Tony stepped through the door, only to be met with silence.

"Yeah, what do you want?" Abby asked morosely, turning. She froze when she saw Tony, then leaped up. "TONY!" she screamed, slamming into him with a hug. Luckily, Ziva had taken the vials of blood, knowing this would probably happen. "Ohmygod, where were you? What happened? How did you get back?"

"Slow down, Abs! I was in Somalia, and I got back the same way I came. I just got here from a Ducky physical, can you run the blood?" Tony patted her on the shoulder.

"Yeah!" she said excitedly, releasing him. She took the blood from Ziva, turning on the music as she walked past her laptop. She set everything up, then turned to Tony. "Spill," she ordered.

"OK, so I get this mission, right? Undercover and everything. I'm infiltrating this smuggling ring into Somalia. Death and all. There was this one day, though, that all hell broke loose…"

* * *

_**March 9, 2010: Near international waters, out from the Jamaame port**_

_**1150 Hours**_

_It was almost noon when the small dinghy, which contained Tony, Taban, and Roble, finally encountered a U.S. ship. They were entering Somali waters, and the time was almost right to strike._

"_Just watch us," Taban said. Of either, he was the most comfortable taking Tony along on this mission._

_Tony smiled, but inside he felt sick. Why had he agreed to do this again?_

_Taban waited until the ship had just gotten past, then raised the flare gun and launched one. It went up and arched, beginning to come down when it burst, leaving a trail of sparks against the bright day._

_Tony listened. He finally heard shouts as the ship pulled around next to the dinghy and a ladder was thrown down._

"_You first," Roble said, gesturing for Tony to go up._

_Tony's eyes narrowed, but he did as shown, hiding the small handgun between his belt and fading jeans._

_Crawling over the edge, he pretended to collapse, as the plan required. He heard more shouting, but he kept his eyes closed even as two midshipmen, if he had to guess, carried him to the sick bay. A minute later, he heard another man being brought in, then a third. They were set._

"_Ready?" he heard the whispered call. He nodded discreetly._

"_Hands in the air!" Taban shouted as all three leapt up from the exam tables._

_The medical staff all scrambled, knocking carts over in their haste to find cover. Tony, Taban, and Roble formed a circle with their backs to one another, as they had discussed. They moved into the hall, forcing everyone aside._

"_Captain's location!" Roble barked at a shaky man, waving the gun in his face._

"_T-t-top deck. The steering room," was the wavering reply._

"_Damn," Taban whistled. "For American Navy men, they sure get scared quick, eh Ivan?" He nudged Tony's shoulder knowingly. He swallowed, but didn't say anything._

_They made it almost unhindered to the steering room, but some of the security men had finally manned up and brought guns to their party. Several now lay either dead or moaning in pain, with the few who did escape unscathed blood-spattered and shocked._

"_Hands in the air!" Roble ordered, pointing his gun at the captain as the trio reached their destination._

_He complied, then asked, "What is this all about?"_

"_What the hell do you think? We're taking over this ship!" Taban said, lowering his weapon in favor of the computer system._

"_Harrington, keep an eye on the door," Roble said, not letting his eyes wander from the captain._

"_You will order your men to stand down and any other ships that may help you to stay back. We have reinforcements at our disposal, and they can come faster than your back-up can."_

"_Shouldn't these guys know better than to trust 'harmless strangers?'" Tony snorted, wanting to get his own jibe in before they thought him chicken._

"_Heh, yeah. Isn't this on your news almost every day?" Roble asked._

_The captain glared but did not respond. He turned and grasped the intra-communications phone. "Attention crew," he began, not breaking eye contact, "this is your captain speaking. Due to complications, you will continue as ordered by me. You will stand down in the way of anyone holding a gun outside the steerage room."_

_He let his finger go of the button as he asked, "Is that all?"_

"_Help."_

"_One more thing: you will not call for help as I am shutting down all inter-ship and port communications. You will only have the intra-ship system until further notice. Thank you."_

_He set the phone down, and said, "Happy?"_

_Roble was not amused. "Do it. Now."_

* * *

**June 16, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**0830 Hours**

"Well?" Abby demanded. "Don't leave me hanging!"

"Don't worry, Abs. I'll tell you the rest after you finish the results. I didn't endure forty-five minutes of Ducky's prodding to play storyteller, you know," Tony said, winking. "C'mon, Ziva, we're going to be needed upstairs; I can feel it."

They had only just left when Abby was alerted by one of her machines. "A ping?" she muttered, checking. "The last time I got a ping, Tony got the plague. What…" she trailed, staring at the screen. "This can't be right."

She activated the video phone to autopsy. "Ducky, I need you to come look at this," she said. "It's from Tony's blood test."

* * *

**Dun dun dun! What's wrong with Tony? Why is Gibbs so mad at him and the Director? Why is Ziva following Tony around so closely? What happened on Tony's first 'mission' for the smugglers? Will this all really work out in the end as I've tried to assure at least one person? Why did I use the 'ping' idea from that one episode when Tony had the plague? I have no clue, I'm just along for the ride! Well, last one I might be able to answer…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Last chapter was the one that wouldn't end. This was the one I couldn't sit and just write. I dragged it out, and I apologize. Ah well. You will find out what's up with Tony and the rest of the mission though! I do have the ending planned out; so if you have a great idea that you want to share for me possibly use, I'll try to fit in somewhere. You're also finding out why Gibbs is so mad at Tony! Or at least part of that reason.**

**There's also a much more recent flashback in this chapter, but it'll be one of the few from in June. April and May flashbacks, when we get to that point in the timeline, will show how the team began to…well, I'm sure you can guess.**

* * *

**June 16, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**0840 Hours**

Tony stared at the results, realizing what they were almost immediately. "So…what?" he asked, trying to play it off.

"Tony!" Abby cried, exasperated. "You have, or at least _had_, codeine in your system! It almost killed you, too! I'd call this a very big deal."

"Abs…" Tony began.

"What?" she snapped through the beginnings of tears.

"I already knew I was being drugged. I'm fine now."

"Not according to my baby! You still have massive amounts of it in you! Do you know what this means?"

"Yes, Abby, I am well aware of what it means," Tony said, quietly cursing Gibbs for making him do this to Abby. "I should've warned you, though. I was sick a couple days ago, but better now. Call Bethesda if you don't believe me. They treated me."

* * *

_**June 10, 2010: Bethesda, Maryland**_

_**2330 Hours**_

"_Out of the way!" shouted an INTERPOL agent as he and another rushed a gurney into the emergency room._

_The on-duty nurse stood with a hand to her mouth. "What's wrong?" she asked._

"_Not sure. Does he have a doctor here?" the first agent asked._

"_Name?" she asked, her professional demeanor in place during the crisis._

"_Anthony DiNozzo."_

_After a moment, she said, "Yes, Dr. Pitt. I'll page him to meet you outside the fourth floor elevators, right through this door." She pointed, then reached for the microphone to the speakers throughout the hospital. "Dr. Pitt, please report immediately to the elevator doors on the fourth floor. Dr. Pitt, fourth floor elevators immediately."_

"_Man, do-do you think he'll die like Weston?" the younger agent asked hesitantly._

_The older shrugged. "He's less doped than him. We can only hope."_

_The elevator seemed to take forever to the two agents. When the doors finally opened, they saw the doctor who had been paged._

"_Ah, my favorite patient!" he chuckled. He motioned the orderlies to take him. "Get blood samples to the lab as soon as possible," he ordered, and they rushed off with the gurney between them._

"_I'm Dr. Brad Pitt, no relation to the actor. What happened to Tony?"_

"_Agent Hamilton, this is Agent Emerson, both from INTERPOL. We don't really know the answer to that. He and another of our agents, Agent Weston, were drugged during an undercover operation. We don't know with what, we found DiNozzo barely lucid and Weston dead. Our helicopter rushed him over from Somalia."_

"_So he's been like this for at least seven hours?" Pitt asked._

"_We don't know. He seemed coherent on the way over but passed out about the time we reached the shores of the U.S.," Emerson said._

"_Well, I'll get back to you," Pit said, frowning as he nodded to them and brushed past._

_The two agents sat in the waiting room, watching as it slowly emptied. Several hours later, Pitt came down and spotted them._

"_He was drugged for about two hours before you found him. By the looks of it, he was being drugged for some time before he succumbed. He's very lucky he made it here. He'll be ready to go by Sunday, if not before knowing him."_

"_Thank you, Dr. Pitt," Hamilton said, shaking Pitt's hand. "My partner and I will be in touch."_

* * *

**June 16, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**0852 Hours**

Abby huffed. "So, you were ten miles away and we didn't know?"

"Guess so," Tony said, smiling ruefully. "But, as I'm walking and talking, you needn't worry. Brad said I'll be fully done with drugs in my system by the end of the week."

"Well, all right then, my boy. You have passed your physical. I will put it on file and give Jethero the good news." Ducky turned and left.

"Well?" Abby demanded. "The rest of your mission!"

Tony pretended to think for a moment, then got punched in the arm by Abby. "All right, all right, Abs! Jeez!" She only stared at him expectantly. "OK, so after the captain made his announcement…"

* * *

_**March 9, 2010: Near international waters, out from the Jamaame port**_

_**1205 Hours**_

"_Do it. Now," Roble ordered._

_Taban turned back to the computer. "Just a moment…now!" he said triumphantly._

_Tony glanced uneasily over his shoulder. "I wouldn't count the Navy men out just yet," he warned. "They're up to something; I feel it in my gut."_

"_Yeah?" Roble snorted. "Did your 'gut' tell you to shut up too? Because that's what my 'gut' is telling me to tell you right now!"_

"_I'm serious!" Tony shouted heatedly. "I grew up in America, seeing what the Navy was up to! They aren't going to quit just because their captain told them to! We need to be on the alert!"_

"_He's right," the captain tried to interject, but was rewarded only with a backhand slap by Roble._

"_Shut it! Both of you!" Taban screamed, throwing Tony and Roble for a loop; the normally easy-going pirate, if there ever was such a thing, was not going to take it today. "We need to get this done, or it'll be all of our heads! Quiet down and do what the plan says."_

"_That's not going to work," the captain said knowingly._

_Roble made to hit him again, but was startled by a solid rumble below his feet. Tony stumbled, grasping onto the guard rail outside the door._

"_You idiot!" he heard Taban scream at Roble as he was tossed behind a wall; just in time, apparently, as the steerage room blew. Board chunks and wood splinters flew. Several screams came from within, presumably from the injured and dying men. Tony stumbled up, his handgun forgotten on the deck, as he made his way to the doorway._

_Cautiously, he opened it inward. The only thing that remained was the splintered, burned bodies of three men. Looking over the rail, Tony saw the ship begin to come in closer to the harbor; out to the side, he saw the rescue boat that was to be for the pirates when they finished their job. The height wasn't too bad; he could jump and not be hurt too badly._

_Tony tried not to hesitate, but did for a split second; enough to hear pounding feet. It spurred him into action. He pulled his body up to the rail and climbed to the other side, letting go and falling to the ocean._

_Putting his feet first, such as was taught, didn't make it too bad upon entering the water; it still felt like landing on concrete though. His next thought was cold, followed by his desperate need for air. The March-temperature water forced shock from him and made him move._

_Reaching the surface, he gasped in air, then went back under to avoid being seen. By memory, Tony swam for the boat._

_Ten minutes later found him hauled in and down in the boat, where he was sat down and something warm-the stuff they called 'coffee,' which was little more than water-was forced into his hands. Right now, Tony didn't care that it tasted like rainwater mixed with mud; he greedily drank it, if only to warm him up faster._

"_Where are Roble and Taban?" Ghedi asked in a deadly quiet voice, obviously displeased._

"_Dead," Tony ground out._

"_Funny that you should survive, American."_

_The word was spat in his face, and Tony bristled, trying to keep his façade up._

"_What the hell, man? You accusing me of working for them when _I_ nearly got blown up too? What is this?"_

_Ghedi smiled predatorily. "This is you proving loyalty. You held up an American ship and ran even though someone needed you. You are loyal to yourself, as you should be."_

No!_ Tony's inner voice wanted to scream at him. _This isn't me at all!_ But he said nothing, watching as Ghedi poured him another cup of hot water/mud and toasted to him._

* * *

**June 16, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**0900 Hours**

"Tony, that's horrible!" Abby protested, wrapping him in a hug.

"It worked," Tony said.

But even as he felt welcomed by his teammates, he couldn't help but think of one who still hadn't welcomed him back.

**NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS**

At the same time Tony told a story to those in Abby's lab, Gibbs was sitting at his desk, wondering why Tony had come back after all these months.

_Dead_, his mind whispered. _That's what you thought of him. Dead. You don't need him on your team! They got used to him being gone, and he waltzes back in like nothing's wrong? He betrayed you!_

And the more Gibbs thought about it, he knew it wouldn't work out as well as everyone hoped. He wouldn't be able to be back. It was for the best.

Even if that best was just for Gibbs himself.

* * *

**I do hope you guys aren't disappointed by the chapter! And again, I'm sorry it was late-ish!**


	5. Chapter 5

**OK, so I wrote out how this is going to pan out, and found that it will most definitely NOT cover enough of Tony's time in Somalia, in my opinion anyway. We'll have to see what I can squeeze in.**

**You guys are all still totally awesome, especially you guys that keep reviewing! All the ones I get totally make my day, especially since I'm rather iffy on some of the components of my story (such as kilometers. I heard somewhere that 1 mile is equal to about 120 kilometers, so I just used that system to figure out how far they were). EDIT: I was corrected by a VERY generous anon, who told me that one mile is about 1.6 kilometers, so it has been changed! Nothing else though.**

**Again, another irrelevant author's note. Please enjoy. For anyone wondering why Gibbs found it so easy to replace Tony, you'll find out next chapter. Sorry to anybody who doesn't think Gibbs would actually do all this, but I wanted somebody to not want Tony back, and since Vance **_**sent**_** him there…I love Gibbs, I really do! I'm not trying to be mean to him on purpose. Well, OK, I am, but you know what I mean!**

* * *

**June 16, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**1100 Hours**

"Come in," Vance called, not looking up from his paperwork.

"I want him transferred."

"Agent Gibbs," Vance said. "This morning you wanted him on your team. Now you want him gone? He's only been back, what, four hours? Make up your mind already."

"Vance, it's going to be what's best for the team. I can't have them working with someone who disappeared for five months, then just came back like nothing was wrong."

"Maybe for him, it wasn't. You know, Gibbs, that boy put up with a lot of crap from you over the years. I may not like DiNozzo, but he's a damn fine agent. You don't want him? All right, I've got just the team for him." Vance pulled out a file that he had stored away in his desk drawer. "I had a feeling this probably wouldn't work." He stopped, looking at Gibbs. "You have no idea where he went though, do you?"

"Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't, I suppose." Vance filled the file out and set it into his 'Outgoing' mail. "Send DiNozzo in, if you can find him."

_Doubt_, nagged the inner voice. _You don't know where he was; he probably couldn't get away._

_Doesn't matter_, the dominant voice said. _He didn't care enough to contact you if he could; judging by the way he looks, he would've been able to. So why didn't he?_

"Agent?" Vance prompted.

Gibbs turned on a heel and walked out, nearly running into Tony.

"Vance wants you," he said gruffly, stepping to one side to walk around him.

Tony stared at Gibbs as he walked away. _Wonder why he's so stiff?_ Tony thought, knocking on the steel door.

"Come in," Vance sighed once again.

The door opened slowly, disclosing Tony's head. "You, ah, wanted to see me, apparently?" he asked.

Vance motioned him in farther. "I did. Agent Gibbs has requested that you be transferred to another unit."

"What? Why?" In Tony's mind, he couldn't help but think of one thing: _He went to Mexico, and not even for a better reason than to retire! Why am I the one to get moved?_

"Personally, I don't see why. Politically, I do. You're a wild card, DiNozzo. He doesn't think he can trust you after you went on the mission to Somalia."

"I don't think he should be one to talk," Tony promptly responded, closing his mouth a moment later and glancing around nervously.

Vance rolled his eyes. "Can't say I don't agree with you there. But, it's his team, unfortunately. So, you're getting your own. In Miami. They'll be picked out as soon as you sign the form. If you don't, I have to figure something else out. Agent Gibbs has made it clear he doesn't want you apparently."

Tony looked at the file Vance laid out in front of him, scanning it for information.

"This is the same as what you have now, except you'll lead them," Vance said. "I know you got used to that; I read the reports from when Agent Gibbs was gone."

Tony sat for a moment, then finally said, "I think…I almost have to take it. It won't get much better than this."

Vance only smiled and handed Tony a pen.

* * *

_**April 26, 2010: About 32 kilometers outside Bandarbeyla, Somalia**_

_**1520 Hours**_

"_Ivan!" a voice hissed from Tony's left._

"_What is it?" Tony muttered, barely enough to be heard._

"_The target is coming in sight!"_

_Sure enough, through the haze of heat that wavered just above the desert, a truck came into view. It trundled along the road, oblivious to the watchers._

"_Now!" Tony said, firing the sniper rifle he held. The bullet bit the tire right where he'd aimed, and the report from the gun next to him signaled that there was another bullet fired. The blood on the inside front windshield proved the driver had been hit._

_Tony was up and running when the second gun went off; he was after his prize. He threw open the back doors, face showing the windburn even though he'd been wearing a turban. He looked around quickly, noting that the entire shipment was there._

"_Clear!" he called to his partner. The boy-he was not more than 12 or 13-pulled the truck they had come in next to the open back. Tony grasped those doors open as well, beginning to load armload after armload of the captured weapons._

_He shut the doors to both trucks when the first had been picked clean. Tony climbed into the passenger of their truck, and the gas was stepped on, leaving no trace than the dust and tire tracks._

* * *

**June 16, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**1120 Hours**

"I…just…can't believe…you're just going to…LEAVE…like this," Abby cried into his shoulder after his story was finished.

Awkwardly, Tony patted her. "Abs, I'm going to Miami, not dying. I'm only a phone call, car drive, or plane ride away."

"You better be, Anthony DiNozzo!" she snapped suddenly, wrapping him, if possible, tighter yet.

"Abs, I can't breathe," Tony gasped, but only succeeded in loosening the distraught Goth by a couple increments.

Ziva pulled Abby off him gently. "Tony, I…"

"Think you're good-looking? Want to come with you? Am going to take it up with Gibbs?" Tony chuckled at his own jokes, Abby's somber mood catching and his own eyes watering. "Don't worry, Zee-va, I signed the form to go."

"I've done research on everybody they're putting under you," McGee said, pulling up the files on the plasma. "The first is Niki Jordain, who is a former journalist with a masters in criminology. She served in Air Force for five years. Next is Sean Siciliano, who worked in forensics before becoming a field agent. Elsie Hicks, the final member, has a degree in photography but was in the Navy for twenty years."

Abby rushed at Tony again, pulling him into another hug. "I don't want you to leave!" she wailed. "I'm going to put in for a transfer too. I mean, I love working with Gibbs and all, but I want to work with you more. Please let me come with you!"

"Abby, stop crying! You're going to make me cry!" Tony said, trying to loosen his friend. "Don't transfer just because of me."

"OK," Abby sniffed. "But if you so much as _sound_ weird over the phone…"

"Abs, I always sound weird over a phone. How would you know?"

"Trust me, I think she would know. And I'm not willing to test it," McGee said.

Vance poked his head in. "DiNozzo, you're going to have to get packed soon," he said, motioning the agent to follow him.

Tony smiled wryly at them. "See you," he murmured, following the director out the door.

* * *

**June 16, 2010: Miami, Florida**

**1800 Hours**

Tony found himself standing in front of the doors to the Miami NCIS building; it was eerily similar to the one in D.C., except with a southern twist. Holding the box and folder tightly to his chest so as not to lose either in the strong winds, he stepped inside.

Once in, he found the director standing there, obviously to greet him. Three people stood behind her: two women and a man. The male had black with blue hair, and all three stood rather nervously.

"Special Agent DiNozzo?" the director asked, but her tone implied it was not a question.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Welcome to the Miami branch of NCIS."

* * *

**I honestly thought it would be longer. This only went through a day. Ah well. Next part will be the epilogue. Thanks for sticking with this story, those who have! It was so awesome to get all the reviews and alerts and favorites on my first NCIS fic!**


	6. Chapter 6

**OK, so this is the final chapter. I know that it's probably been a very confusing ride as I tend to try to roll through it with a goal in mind and forget the little details.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who favorited, alerted, and/or reviewed this story! Your support gave me the confidence to get through this whole thing. Yes, even those of you who reviewed anonymously to tell me why you didn't like it! I'm so excited because of this, that someone told me why! First story I posted, people just said, 'don't like it. Don't post. Go throw this in a burning pit of tar.' But those of you who told me why: you get the ****Reviewer Who Posted *Anonymously* To Tell Me Why!**** award. And I adore the five or so who did.**

**I did get some anonymous reviews, so I want to reply to them really quickly (you'll know who you are!):**

**To Anonymous: **Hey, thanks for reviewing! I honestly have no idea why he's reacting this way-I wish I did, because then maybe I wouldn't have such a hard time trying to gauge his responses!

I agree. I know Gibbs wouldn't really do this in the show, but with this story, I'm going to classify it as slight AU. I had some concerns about Abby just up and leaving, but it might be better for her when you put it that way.

I think, technically, he had figured it out only by bits during the day, so he did tell them. Abby was the only one who showed her reaction; McGee and Ziva wanted to save their reactions for a more, ah, _personal_ time (such as confronting Gibbs). They all felt angry though, and want to help Tony.

Thanks again for reviewing, I hope I answered all your questions!

**To Ann:** Thanks for reviewing!

Yeah, I know Gibbs really wouldn't; I've been blaming a defective Gibbs or trying to classify it as a slight AU. Please see the next reply for a better explanation though.

I think, eventually, he's going to realize this. He's just really mad because Tony left. Usually he leaves while telling Gibbs or does when he gets back; Tony hasn't really told Gibbs anything, which was a total whoops on my part. Gibbs is getting a kick in the pants in this chapter, even though he's getting some sort of revelation now that Tony's actually gone.

**To Anonymous:** Thanks for the review! I'm sorry I couldn't keep you interested; I tried my best, but, as you can see, it doesn't always turn out that way (I have good grammar and spelling skills, just not good foresight). Thank you for taking time to let me know why though! I see so many fics where people say they don't like it and don't tell why!

I do agree with you: Gibbs would never do something like this normally, and he did stick up for Tony in a lot of episodes, as you and many others have pointed out **(those who did, I think I've come up with a better explanation as well, so please pay attention!)** but I think it is still slightly plausible in the fact that he wasn't told where Tony was or received any messages from him, and when Tony got back, he mostly didn't care anymore, even though he began to understand why. I probably should've picked another character, and in hindsight I realize this. I just don't have very good foresight though, which is why this ended up so wrong in my mind.

Also, thank you so very much for correcting me! I will change it.

If you do check to see if I wrote a reply, even though you don't want to read the rest, I hope that you won't hate me too badly for this piece. Again, thank you for telling me why you didn't like it though!

**Again, thank you, and I think I've replied to everybody who sent in a review at some point or another. And I'd like to apologize for this piece, which made no sense and had something that was completely OOC about it.**

* * *

**June 17, 2010: Miami, Florida**

**0700 Hours**

"Sir?"

Tony didn't look up from the paperwork he was filling out until he realized the hesitant female voice was talking to him.

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that, Agent Jordain. Can I call you Niki?" he asked, looking up at her.

Niki shyly nodded at her new boss. "Yes, go right ahead."

"Then you have to call me Tony," he said, smiling at the younger agent. "What's up?"

"I needed to tell you that there are some people down in the garage who said they were here to see you," she murmured, brown eyes flickering over his face.

"OK, I'll check it out then." Tony stood and walked toward the elevator. "Hey, wait, can you find Elsie and Sean and bring them down too?" he asked suddenly, stopping to turn to her.

Niki nodded, turned to find the other agents.

Tony sighed once he was in the elevator. He had a pretty good idea who they all were, and he didn't really want them to make such a fuss.

The elevator _dinged_, signaling the end of the ride. Tony stepped out as the doors opened only to be slammed back in by a whirlwind of black.

"Tony! Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony!" Abby nearly screamed, pulling him into a squeeze of a hug.

"Abs, we went through this! I need to breathe…" Tony gasped, trying vainly to push her arms looser from his body. She let go.

"Sorry. But I couldn't help it! I haven't seen you!"

"Abby, he left yesterday," McGee said, stepping forward to pull Tony into a 'manly' hug.

"Aw, McGoo," Tony cooed to the man. "I didn't realize you were so sensitive!"

"You know what-never mind," McGee started, then stopped, embarrassed, as the elevator opened again and dispelled three more agents.

Tony watched as the two very different teams intermixed; the Miami team seemed almost leery of the closely-knit group from D.C. But it seemed to smooth out as Abby grasped them in a hug, telling them to take care of him.

* * *

**June 17, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**0930 Hours**

_Vance said they wouldn't be in. They went to see Tony_. But as much as Gibbs told himself he hadn't wanted to go; hadn't wanted to see Tony ever, ever again, he knew deep down he did miss the tow-headed agent.

Sure, Tony was _annoying_, childish, sometimes inconsiderate. But the man had a heart of gold, and Gibbs knew it, even though he hadn't realized it before it was too late.

When Tony was an agent afloat, who stood up for him?

_You, Jethero_, the voice whispered into his subconscious. _You wanted him back so badly; why didn't you now?_

_No word. Not a single damn word._

_Didn't know where he was._

_Didn't know the danger._

_Didn't know the death, the…_

No, that's not it…

_You don't want him to have been like you, now did you? You thought he retired, just like you. That'd be Tony, the one who followed Gibbs like a lost puppy._

"Stop…" Gibbs moaned, the two opposing forces in his mind, battling for dominance, arguing over right verses wrong. "You're both wrong. The real reason? I gave up on him."

"So you finally admit it?"

Vance. Gibbs should've known; just because the team was all gone didn't mean the Director got a day off.

"You just…gave up on him? All because you didn't hear a word? He left to protect everyone in this country from Somali pirates, and this was how you repaid him? With a kick in the rear and a 'See ya!' wave from the window? That boy took more courage from his entire body to do that behind everyone's back and got drugged for his trouble, only to come home to the one person he counted on to kick him out."

Gibbs started; it was all in his mind, still. Vance wasn't here; he was in MTAC in a video conference with the SecNav. It was all in his head. Truth was finally abound in the empty bullpen.

_Truth finally set you free, huh, Jethero? You blamed before you thought, just like…who was it? Wife three, four? Doesn't matter. You did it to all except Shannon._

_Shannon._

_Shannon._

_Shannon._

"Shannon," Gibbs whispered. He knew it now.

He needed Tony.

And it was too late to get him back.

* * *

**June 18, 2010: Washington, D.C.**

**0700 Hours**

The mood was somber as McGee, Abby, and Ziva tromped into the NCIS building. Abby split off, taking the stairs to her lab. McGee and Ziva stood in the elevator.

"What do you think Gibbs did while we were gone?" Ziva wondered aloud.

"Probably partied," McGee snorted. "The man couldn't wait to get rid of Tony."

Both were surprised to see Gibbs standing at Tony's old desk with a picture on the desk. He was staring at it, eyes unfocused.

McGee drew closer to go past when the actual picture caught his eye.

It was of a younger Tony, mid- to late-twenties if he had to guess, smiling and laughing with a younger, but still silver-haired, version of Gibbs. They were out on the seas, and the pair held a huge fish between them.

"I screwed up so badly, and I can't take it back," came the whisper. A single tear dripped onto the glass.

_Still_

* * *

**I hope you guys don't hate this ending; I'm rather disappointed myself with the entire thing in the end. I think I said somewhere I was happy with it so far; I take it back. I like how the ending went, but overall I think it could've been better.**

**Thanks to EVERYONE who stuck with this story because they liked it or told me why they DIDN'T like it! Everyone who reviewed, whether to say they liked or didn't like it, deserves a VERY large round of applause. Thank you to Easier than eating two pies for this really awesome challenge, and I hope I didn't disappoint in how it panned out and in regards to the challenge.**

**Ciao! I hope to get much better planned stories of NCIS out in the near future, as soon as every other story that I have up is finished…**


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